He studies my face like he is searching for deception and finding none.
I smile softly and touch his cheek. “Kauss.”
“Yes?”
“I haven’t felt happy like this in years.”
The confession leaves me more exposed than nudity ever could.
For one terrifying second, I think maybe I said too much.
Then his entire expression changes.
Not panic.
Not withdrawal.
Something deeper. Softer. Almost shattered by tenderness.
His hand rises to cover mine against his cheek. “Evie.”
The way he says my name makes my chest ache with wanting.
He does not say he loves me.
But suddenly I know.
Not because he speaks it.
Because he looks at me like a man standing in the middle of something life-changing and terrifying and absolutely real.
Outside, rain falls steadily across Halo’s battered rooftops while the city hums through the dark. Inside my tiny apartment, wrapped together beneath old blankets and warm lamp light, Kauss holds me with impossible gentleness.
And somewhere between the bakery and the tunnels and the dance floor and this couch, two lonely people have accidentally begun building something that feels dangerously close to home.
CHAPTER 18
KAUSS
The restaurant Savio Lenrog chooses smells like citrus oil, roasted peppers, polished wood, expensive liquor, and old blood buried under fresh flowers.
Not literal blood. Not tonight. The place is too well run for visible stains. La Reina Azul sits on the upper edge of downtown Vedder City, where the buildings rise clean and silver above the older streets and where crime wears silk instead of purple gang patches. Rain slides down the tall front windows in elegant streams, blurring the hover traffic outside into ribbons of gold, green, and blue. Inside, the lights are low and warm, suspended in iron chandeliers shaped like curling vines. Dark wood panels cover the walls. Painted tiles line the floor in blue and white patterns that look handmade rather than printed. A trio of musicians plays near the bar, soft strings beneath the murmur of rich voices and silverware against porcelain.
It is beautiful.
That makes it more dangerous.
Places like the abandoned zoo announce threat through rust, graffiti, bad lighting, and men holding weapons with too much confidence. La Reina Azul hides threat beneath table linens and polished manners. The staff never rushes. The guards neverstand where ordinary patrons will feel watched. The mirrors are angled for surveillance, not decoration. The rear hall has two visible exits and one concealed panel behind a wine display. The host at the front has a ceramic smile and a compact energy pistol under the stand.
I notice all of this before she finishes saying, “Welcome.”
Her eyes move over me with impressive discipline. Vakutans are not common in restaurants like this. Scarred ones wearing repaired dark clothing, less so. I came as close to properly dressed as possible, which means the charcoal shirt Evie liked, clean trousers, and boots polished enough that Darlene inspected them and said, “Well, at least you don’t look like you crawled out of a murder puddle.”
I did not ask what a murder puddle was.
I still do not know.
“Name?” the host asks.
